𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠.

your escapade. your sanctuary. yours.

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

𝐁𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐒, unfelt scars.
The shackles on your legs are golden.

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@rupturedespair That saying wasn’t meant to be taken literally?

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

calmly walking towards the window in the room. He gazes down from the upper floor, catching two of his subordinates having a chatty stroll together.

“The Don is trying to get rid of me,” he tells @schismaetic at last. “I want you useful.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

“You look worse than usual,” a tad more beautiful. Oddly, he couldn’t say that it’s a pleasant thing. @schismaetic

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic Smart. They may not have deep understanding about each other, but they do know one thing for sure; that the other would not grant something for free. If they do, you can be sure that it's a honey-glazed trap.

The taller man takes off his glasses and gets up on his feet,

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

weakest one. It’s up to @schismaetic to calm the waters, see past the waves of his own mind, and notice the trump card in his hands.

“What is your best bet, if you were to try to survive amongst them?”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic The distorted figure behind the glass stares at Ivan with an unreadable expression. “You're already in it, though. Rather than a lion den, a wolf den.” Surely, Ivan is aware of this already. It's a dog eat dog society where one doesn't have the luxury of choosing when they're

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

he utters regardless. Ivan might think that Adham knows the answer to everything, but it’s simply @schismaetic that refuses to see the answer before his eyes.

“Blame it all on me.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic He props his head against his fist. The space between them — no matter how small, felt like miles. Adham could reach out to grasp Ivan right now, and would still find nothingness in his palm. It's a void that swallows words without properly being heard.

“So make me your ally,”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic “Incorrect,” he states.

Deft hands work with the bandaid, despite the restrictions of the cuff. In no time, his ankle is neatly wrapped, with a perfection comparable to what a machine would achieve. He lets go of his foot.

“It’s because you have no ally here, Raskolnikov.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic A scoff escapes his mouth, Adham adjusts the glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose with a slight head shake. “I do know,” he tugs on the roll. “but you don’t.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic “Maybe,” he answers, retrieving what seems to be a bandaid roll out of the storage. A long finger gets between Ivan’s grazed skin and the ankle cuff, elevating it up to allow himself some space. “Do you know why they're doing this to you?”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic Observant eyes gaze upon the irritated skin from above. The blister wounds have spread, he can see raw skin on some small spots — ripped skin. It must’ve hurted to even move. He pulls the small storage just next to them with his fingers.

“Do you resent me, Raskolnikov?”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic An honest answer, not that Ivan had been anything but. Adham drags his chair with him to get closer to Ivan. He can fix that for him.

His callous palm, facing up, rests on his thigh as a beckoning — a place for Ivan to put his foot upon. “Show me your ankle.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic While Adham on the other hand is settled in his seat like he was the one hosting the nice dinner, cigarette already kindled.

He taps the ash off into the tray. “Does it hurt?” The swollen skin. It does look painful.

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic “End you?” Adham repeats as he looks up at the other male. There’s a small pause before he withdraws the offer back into his pocket. Where was his lighter again?

“I’m not quite sure of what you mean.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic Does one’s heartfelt sorrow makes them more beautiful? The answer is an absolute yes.

Adham clicks open his tin cigarette case to take one for himself and offers it to Ivan. “Have one, too.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

mid-air, giving @schismaetic time to react.

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

Freedom is exquisite, is it not? Many has had the mistake of taking it for granted.

“𝘝𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘢,” a voice calls out to @schismaetic from across the hallway, one tall figure looming at the doorway. Behind him is the world outside of the clutches of the base’s stone walls.

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

slaps. The callous grip on his dark locks tightens. “I need you to answer yes, or bark it.” His sharp eyes pierce over Ivan heavily. Adham doesn’t wear this expression often; he’s serious.

“𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙖,” his palm raises again. This time however, he purposefully suspends his hand

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic sort of a warning. A signal, only to be followed by another brutal slap across his face.

“I said you’re no longer allowed go outside from now on. 𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙖,” then followed by another one. Harder this time. “Answer.”

[𝗔𝗗𝗛𝗔͟𝗠. @obsesade]

@schismaetic The same hand suddenly grabs a fistful of Ivan’s hair and yanks him up, forcing him to muster back the focus which he’s probably not in the ready state to.

“𝙑𝙖𝙣𝙮𝙖,” Adham repeats. It’s odd-sounding when he says it. Almost as though it isn’t a name that he spoke — but some